


Cupcake

by Anonymous



Category: Motionless in White (Band), Tim Sköld (Musician)
Genre: Bondage, Boot Worship, Branding, Burnplay, Burns, Cigarettes, Consensual Branding, Dom/sub, Dominance, Dry Humping, Frottage, Gags, M/M, Making Out, Other, Rope Bondage, Rough Sex, Sex, Smoking, Submission, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:47:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22427314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Compilation of Tim Sköld stories with perhaps a few others. *hint hint nudge nudge ya never know*(DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the people depicted. The personalities portrayed do not portray actual personalities. It is simply a character formed from an inspiration in reality, however reality is not a key ingredient to these stories. All rights reserved to the stories as the stories are mine.) ~R
Relationships: Ricky "Horror" Olson/Ryan Sitkowski, Tim Sköld/Reader
Comments: 19
Kudos: 34
Collections: Anonymous





	1. For Being Such a Little Whore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feistycadavers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feistycadavers/gifts).



> I used to have this up under another ao3 name but sadly I had deleted everything just because of stuff. But anyway this is for you, Marina and the next ones will be better I promise. Love you bitch ain't ever gonna stop loving you... BITCH. Just wait for May who knows what I got under my sleeve... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ hehe.
> 
> ALSO the working title is based off your tag for Tim. #cupcake

“Perfect.”

It’s so tight and secure. Tim stands back, observing his creation with that simpering gaze of his, lidded eyes raking up and down your bound and naked form, hands tied securely and skillfully to the bedpost at the footboard. A muffled noise erupts from your mouth, cleave-gagged by a simple cloth, and slightly amused, Tim chuckles dryly, hooking a finger into the tie of the ropes and testing out its strength. You can fucking smell that familiar scent of cigarette smoke, and like Pavlov’s dog, your mouth waters for his presence. That’s what he is to you, somebody who could literally just stand there and growl before you are on your knees begging to suck his cock.

Right now, he’s decided he won’t let you. At least, not yet. Tim doesn’t think you deserve it. You make another incoherent sound before he tells you to shut up.

Tim shoots you a look and then returns his focus back to his lit cigarette. “Hold your horses,” he murmurs, inhaling deeply, leaning forward, and gently blowing the smoke in your face. Your eyes water, and you fight back the urge to cough. “I’m not going anywhere. And neither are you.” A shiver runs up and down your spine at his words.

Getting down to your level, Tim offers a wide smile and inquires somewhat tauntingly, “Want a kiss?” You whine. You wish this goddamned thing was out of your mouth so that your lips can meet his on their own. Tim teasingly nibbles at your lower lip, and you can practically taste the smoke from his breathe. He shakes his head once he pulls away.

“No, that’s not what you want, is it?” Tim stands back up again, looming over you, that tuft of blonde hair falling over his eyes gracefully. “I know what you want,” he snarls, that signature snarl, and slowly his free hand trails down his body, fingering the collar of his leather jacket, moving past the hem of his shirt, reaching under to grip and squeeze his balls and shaft through his leather pants. You can see the obvious bulge. Are you fucking drooling? You want to beg and plead on your knees to simply lick up his shaft, but he has you restrained for a reason. It’s your punishment, and he’s going to fucking enjoy every second of it.

Removing the gag with a harsh tug and untying you from the bedpost so that your wrists remain tied closely to your chest, Tim pushes you down on the floor on your back carelessly, as if you are nothing more than a rag doll to him, and he chuckles softly once you hit the plush carpet with a thud, cringing just a little. He leans in close, like a father reprimanding his child shrilly.

“Lick my boot clean,” he growls. “Maybe I’ll let you come first.”

You whimper up at him, longing to obey, waiting for his boot, and soon enough, the toe of it tips your chin up to look at him, nudges your mouth open to which you happily obey. You ignore the bitter taste of the leather and whatever else that comes with it, beginning to lap at it like it was the milk of the gods. Tim watches you closely, making you redden instantly but you continue, leaving little kitten licks along the laces, the toe of the boot, running your entire tongue along the side of it, wishing so desperately that you could reach the very top, perhaps catch his skin between your teeth, tease him a little. Tim hardly wants to be teased tonight. You merely obey.

“You missed a spot,” Tim sneers and then, without warning, presses the entire sole of his boot on your face, muffling your surprised sounds and moans. “That’s it,” he murmurs, in awe of the noises you make, “lick it clean, you dirty little whore.” This is praise to you. Tim verbally abusing you while he finds ways to use you to get himself off. How selfish. And you love it. How can you better please him? You would do anything for him but at the moment, you’re a little indisposed.

He doesn’t give a shit if you’re finding it more and more difficult to breathe. You are his shoe shine and nothing else right now. Tim presses in and twists his boot around. Automatically, you tense but continue to lick and moan, letting him know how much you enjoy cleaning his boots for him. After what seems like an hour of cleaning the dirt from the sole, Tim pulls away abruptly and cocks his head to the side as if he is really thinking, thinking about what else he can do to you tonight, thinking about more and more ways to torment you to the edge. He grins to himself and eyes you, lips curled and eyebrows raised.

“Pleasure or punishment, princess?” he finally asks you not that you have the chance to speak.

You want pleasure. You want it so bad, the spot between your thighs just screaming for some attention down there. “P-pleasure...” you mutter almost uncertainly.

“Greedy are we?” Tim inhales deeply, eyes closed in concentration, and then lets out the smoke through his nostrils, blowing a little out from between his lips. “Typical. Spread your legs.” As soon as you do, Tim immediately pulls the cigarette from his mouth, jawing dropping just a little while he stares at your swollen pussy. A long, drawn out “oh” falls from his lips, and the corners of his mouth turn up slightly. “Look how wet you are,” he breathes. “Soaked.” Bending down, he slides just two fingers down your slit, rubbing them together and gasping a little at the strand of pre-cum that connects once he pulls back. Tim brings them to his lips and sucks softly, closing his eyes and groaning inwardly at the taste of you.

“Oh, princess...” he shakes his head. “You must really want this. Just the thought of me dragging my boot along that cute little cunt of yours makes you fucking _drip_ , doesn’t it?”

All you can do is nod. But that’s not all he wants. The sole of Tim’s boot presses down hard on your cunt without warning, and you give a small squeak at the sudden friction.

“I asked you a fucking question, and I expect to hear a fucking answer out of you, bitch. Me doing this to you? Right now? Does it or does it not make your goddamn pussy wet?”

You swallow. “It does...”

“It does, _what_.”

“It does, Sir.”

“Much better,” Tim practically purrs, reducing some of the pressure of his boot against your pussy. Instead, he begins rubbing it in slow, sensual circles against you, making sure your clit gets most of the attention, moving up and down. Your eyes roll back into your head while he touches you, just like that, and plenty of whorish moans roll off your tongue, coherently and even incoherently begging him to keep going. You spread your legs wider, offering him access and he chuckles deeply, continuing, maybe a bit more vigorously.

You come before he gives you permission. You can’t help it; it’s like sensory overload, and you instantly regret it, twitching and moaning and writhing while glancing up at him with something like fear in your eyes. Tim’s expression is unreadable, and he raises the cigarette to his lips once more, almost as if he is brooding over what exactly he should do to you now. You’re starting to think that begging for mercy won’t help you in the slightest, so you anticipate his decision, trembling ever so slightly.

“Up. On the bed. Now.”

You never obeyed faster in your life, and you lie there, shivering beneath his gaze as he climbs on top of you, straddling your waist, the leather of his pants rustling and rubbing against your smooth skin. It feels nice, you think but you’re wary. He looks ravenous. Before you know it, your arms are tied securely to the headboard, making you feel even more exposed and vulnerable beneath him than before. Tim’s hand roams your body, sliding up to caress your breasts and making your breath hitch in your throat ever so slightly.

Wetting his lips, he remarks softly, “You have amazing tits, sweetheart.” You blush furiously, feeling the heat flood your face when he lowers his head to take one of your nipples into his mouth. You moan loudly, relishing that tongue flicking against you. He pulls away and does the same to the other one, ushering out more moans and shameless noises from your lips while he himself hums, pleased. Pulling away, Tim murmurs something about the cigarette in his other hand. “Gotta put it out, and apparently you need another punishment for coming too early.”

Your heart thumps once as you eye the cig warily, and in that split second, Tim jams the butt end of it into your chest, twisting it around and looking up to smile. It’s hard to hold you down. You’re screaming at the slight searing pain and writhing beneath him, almost thrashing around in the bed, waiting for him to fucking stop. He does eventually, smirking at his creation and flicking the remaining ash on your breasts before casually tossing the cigarette onto the tray at the bedside table. You moan and whimper in pain when he catches your waist in his arms and leans down to lave his tongue up the fresh burn.

“I would’ve done it on those fucking tits of yours,” Tim comments nonchalantly through quick kisses, “but I guess I didn’t want to damage the goods.” In a more stern, deeper voice, resembling a growl, he says, “Don’t come without my permission. _Understand_?” You nod obediently and gasp aloud as he slides in between your thighs, on his knees, hoisting your lower half up against his groin while he unzips his fly. “Must still be pretty sensitive, huh?” You gulp once.

Keeping you spread, Tim pulls out his cock, already hard and leaking pre-cum just for you. You do your part so well. He lets out a small, low “mmm” through closed lips pressed tightly together, rubbing himself down before advancing on you again.

Tim slides into you as if you are nothing more than smooth oil, grunting as he pushes through, all the way, right up to the hilt. He begins a steady rocking rhythm inside of you, beginning with a few rough thrusts, instilling his dominance in you. You squeak once, and he slaps your thigh, ordering you to keep those legs up. “I’m not doing all the work.”

With your legs wrapped tightly around his waist, Tim continues to gently thrust in and out of you, slowly rolling his hips or pulling them back before snapping them forward. He wants you to feel everything. Before he moves on however, Tim holds you in place and leans over you, reaching for his box of cigarettes and a lighter. He stares at you with those lidded eyes, filled with lust and a new cigarette, puffing smoke as he fucks into you harder, managing to just brush against your sweet spot. You bite back a scream of pleasure and watch him take another puff, inhaling deeply. He holds it in this time, and you, knowing exactly what he wants, open your mouth obediently.

Tim hovers over you, exhaling the smoke through his mouth and nose into your mouth, snapping his hips at a much more rapid and frantic pace. Your legs draw him in deeper, and you whimper, knowing how close he is, how close you are getting.

“Gonna come, princess!” Tim stumbles breathlessly, fucking into you wildly a few more times before he is coming deep inside you, spilling his seed along your wet walls, making sure nothing is left. He groans long and low before pulling out. Inhaling heavily from his cig, Tim jams three fingers into you, thumb stroking your clit, urging you to come a second time for him. Breathy encouragements and sweet nothings burst from his lips until you finally do, practically screaming in ecstasy and coming all over his fingers.

“Oh, sweetheart...” Tim marvels at his come-soaked fingers and sucks on them, moaning at how he can taste you. You gasp breathlessly and feel a bit of relief in your arms when he unties your wrists from the headboard.

“Wasn’t too tight?” You shake your head no and smile appreciatively at him as he tucks himself back into his pants. Tim falls against you, offering sweet, soft kisses against your neck and down to your chest until he sees the small wound he had given you. “I should probably look at that now.”

You shake your head quickly and pull him back down to lie against your chest, his favorite place to be. “Not yet.” Tim smiles, relenting, and hums in satisfaction, arms wrapped around your waist. You don’t want to think about anything just now; just feel his soft hair between your fingers.

“I still want to suck your cock later.”

Tim laughs softly at you whispering in his ear. “Aftercare first. Then maybe I’ll let you. I think you deserve it.”


	2. Fiction of Love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *in which Ricky is being an absolute, undeniably, irritatingly adorable tease without even trying and Ryan has to drag him to the closet just to get a few minutes alone with him before they head out*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MARINA AND HAPPY GOTH DAY TO ALL.
> 
> This is my first time writing this pair. First time writing this fandom really and I hope I did well. <3

Chris loves to people-watch.

And by ‘people-watch’, he really means spy on his bandmates, especially when he knows that something is up (and most of the time something is). Normally, it’s nothing unusual or even remotely bad in the first place, but of course, Chris enjoys finding out simply because some of them get paranoid, paranoid that he would keep it over their heads or tease them relentlessly about it. This time however, it is completely different, something that involves two of his bandmates, something that involves hand brushing against hand, soft smiles, bumping shoulders and keeping the contact until they regrettably part ways, all the cliché aspects that attribute so clearly to what he assumes is going on.

Ryan _likes_ Ricky.

Ricky _likes_ Ryan.

Not that there is anything wrong with that. Of course, there isn’t. But Chris discovers this rather _interesting_ development late one night outside the van, and it is the cliché of all clichés as though he’s sitting in his bunk watching Bridget Jones’ Diary but it’s the gay version, only Ricky is not in his underwear and a bathrobe in the freezing cold and falling snow; he’s just in his sweatpants, standing on his tiptoes and giving Ryan the sweetest, softest kiss Chris has ever seen. When they break away, the cliché continues with Ricky smiling and nibbling on his lower lip, upsetting his piercings. Just before Ryan’s tattooed hand cups his cheek, and his lips find his again.

After that, Chris realizes that they are actually pretty skilled in hiding their little secret. Any funny business he could accidentally walk in on doesn’t happen; both are practically silent as the grave about any and every feeling they harbor towards one another. Doesn’t matter, though. Chris can literally feel the utter sexual tension oozing off the two of them, but that is all it is. After that little kiss. Just a feeling.

Until Ryan decides he wants to “get a little blitzed before a venue”. With “Ricky”.

The moment Ricky sets eyes on the basketball net, his attention span goes out the window. Not that Chris cares anyway. Ricky sits on his knees perched on one of their more larger cases, decked out in full makeup and getup with a casual yet pleased expression on his face. As long as he’s ready… Not that there’s a problem with releasing a few nerves before a show; quite perfect really. Ricky’s managed to get a few shots in, but Chris spots trouble enter from the other side of the room over the tip of his eyeliner. Ryan’s got the walk that says he wants to get stoned, but he goes straight to Ricky. Covering his eyes in black and uncapping his lipstick, Chris decides to just listen.

“Hey, Rick, pass the ball.”

Hmm… That was a good shot, Chris thinks, eyeing them both sideways. There is only one guy he wants to impress, though. Show off.

“Need something?” Ricky sounds like he already knows exactly what Ryan needs, what he wants; Chris almost squints, but he stays silent. Interesting.

Ryan passes the ball back to Ricky and, in a low voice, says, “Yeah.” Aloud, he grumbles, “I’m bored.”

“So?” Ricky seems to know how to make himself sound as disinterested as possible, Chris almost laughs to himself. He takes another shot with an effortless flick of his wrist and reaches for another ball. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“So…” Ryan drags out, putting more emphasis on the word as he goes, “let’s get a hit in before we’re on, huh?”

“Anything else?”

Chris can practically hear the devious smile, and when he spots him out of the corner of his eye, Ricky looks more than playful, especially when the strained, needy “ _Ricky_ ” comes out of Ryan next. Perhaps not so needy as he is wary. Perhaps an equal amount of both. Chris smiles himself. With yet another successful shot in the hoop, Ricky cackles now, and that may have just been his first mistake because all of a sudden, Ryan grows tired of his particular teasing. The next ball doesn’t exactly make it in and falls perfectly into Ryan’s hands, who instantly realizes the potential advantage.

“Come on, give it back, Ryan,” Ricky whines, making grabby hands at him, which actually looks incredibly adorable, even to Chris.

Ryan’s only grinning when he says, “Catch it then” and attempts to throw it just out of his reach, underestimating the moment when he really does. The ball comes back straight for his face, which he grabs just in time.

“Bitch,” Ricky sticks his tongue out, eyes, swathed in eyeliner, glittering mischievously.

“Asshole.” Ryan throws the ball again.

And it hits Ricky right in the side of his face.

Chris groans inwardly, hears Ryan’s desperate “oh shit, oh shit!”, and runs out, prepared to grab the first aid until he hears Ricky’s peals of laughter amidst Ryan’s motherly worrying and attempts at ministrations.

“ _Asshole!_ ” Ryan scoffs again, finger and thumb caressing Ricky’s reddening jaw and cheek. His lip is bleeding, but not enough to make him feel especially guilty. “Why are you laughing?”

“You all right, Rick?” Chris calls, shaking his head at their shenanigans.

He nods, lipstick more smudged than usual and to Ryan retorts, “Because you make it so easy!”

Ryan gives him one look, eyes screaming “really?” at him, and mutters under his breath, “Okay, that’s it.” With both hands wrapped around his waist, Ryan smiles at the sharp yelp from Ricky as he’s literally thrown in the air and flung over his shoulder as though he weighs nothing more than a rag doll. Perhaps he doesn’t feel the heavy thump of Ricky’s heart as he does so; it will take a long time for the latter to eventually admit that being held every which way in his arms gives him more than just an adrenaline rush. Maybe Ricky would tell him. If Chris wasn’t in the room at that very moment with them. If they were alone and Ryan was doing more than just holding him. Ricky can think of a million things.

So Chris watches from the tip of his eyeliner pen again as Ryan stalks away, carrying a hysterical, laughing Ricky like a sack of potatoes.

“Chris! Chris, help!”

He smirks to himself. “You’re on your own, Rick.” Sure, he will keep their little secret- even if they are awful at keeping it themselves.

Ricky’s giggling continues even after Ryan has dumped him against the door of the closet where he knows the cleaning supplies and first aid is normally kept. Ricky leans against it breathless, matching his own heavy breaths as well and looking more than elated. Blissful. He eyes Ryan wantonly, but Ryan has already forgotten why he came to him in the first place. Just ice him up and apologize profusely. With maybe a few kisses in between. Ricky would rather have just the kisses instead. To hold his attention (and make up for all of his teasing prior), he closes the door, pulls the string, and shuts off the closet light.

“Wha- Rick!” With a huff, Ryan turns it back on. “Quit fucking around. I’m trying to find the first aid for your dumb ass.”

Ricky smirks and grunts, amused. “That’s bullshit,” he remarks. “There’s only one reason you’d drag me to the utility closet, and I think we both know what that is. Smashing my face with a basketball is only coincidence.” As the words leave his mouth, he takes Ryan’s hands in his and then tips his head up, looking like he is deep in thought. Then he pouts. Which Ryan thinks is absolutely evil. And adorable. “Unless of course this is some elaborate and fucked up way to get me alone with you.”

“Shut up,” Ryan mutters, sounding a little wounded, but Ricky already pulls him close, flush against his body, and backs himself up against the wall, blindly reaching for the string that connects to the overhanging lamp and succeeding in turning out the lights once again. “Oh, so _now_ you want to get some, huh?” Ricky doesn’t let him say another word, hands searching for him in the pitch black, lips finding his rather forcefully. In the back of his mind, Ryan can’t help the one word that flies through, waving banners and shouting ‘finally’. He nearly melts into the kiss, noting the way his mouth forms to Ricky’s perfectly, like they were made for each other. Tucking the cheesy thought away for later, after soft sex and a shared joint to commemorate another successful show, Ryan presses Ricky in further with his body, trapping him in with more harsher kisses and hands pinning him by his hips, sneaking up and under, searching for soft, pale skin. These eager and daring gestures usher soft gasps from the beautiful, small man he has against the wall, so Ryan grins to himself and does it again, only the next gasp is a pained hiss.

“Ow… fucker!” Ricky rasps, breaking away and gingerly touching his lip.

Ryan lets out an agitated sigh, and the lights come on again. “See, the _reason_ for being here is to patch you up, you dumb baby.” The moment he turns around for first aid however, he is met with darkness, and he swears his eye almost twitches. “Oh my fuck-”

Ricky doesn’t let him finish that thought, though. Both arms wrap around his middle, turn him around, and Ryan finds himself right back in the same position before (and where he really wants to be), only this time he can make out the playful, wicked grin. “You’re so cute when you play doctor, Ry. Wanna check me for any other aches and pains?”

Just when he thinks Ricky’s hand leads him to his lips, Ryan finds his own hand cupping the growing bulge beneath Ricky’s pants. He gasps when the latter chuckles and then hears the familiar hitch of breath. He can just barely see Ricky’s eyelids flutter.

“It aches so much,” Ricky pouts. “Hurts, Ry.”

Ryan shakes his head, bewildered. “Are you high right now?”

“Are _you_?”

“ _No_.”

“No.”

With a soft laugh, Ryan decides to give what he’s cupping a light squeeze just so he can watch Ricky squirm, up against the wall, lip bleeding, hair mussed and in his eyes. It sends a jolt straight to his own cock. “You are one horny bitch then.”

Ricky snorts, and Ryan sees him roll his eyes this time. “ _Please_ , says the one who had to hit me in the face with a basketball just to rub one out with me in the fucking utility closet.”

“I’m _sorry_. Now kiss me if you’re not going to let me take care of you.”

When he does, Ryan feels his tongue enter his mouth and groans into him, kneading his palm into Ricky’s now stiff cock and ushering another delicious sound from him that he swallows down as if he is swallowing something else entirely. When they break away for the second time, Ricky lets his head fall back against the wall, debauched and desperate. Ryan swears he’s never seen a prettier sight. With no breath left in his lungs, he murmurs against his lips, “Let me suck you off.”

But Ricky shakes his head, stealing another kiss and bucking up into his hand once. “No time… just… like this…”

Ryan immediately gets the hint and shifts to give him even more friction, moving in between his thighs and imagining he’s thrusting into his tight heat as he rubs both of their clothed cocks against each other. A high whine bursts between closed lips, and Ricky’s hands instantly latch themselves onto Ryan’s shoulders but not for long. With a burst of dominance he didn’t even know he had, Ryan takes both his wrists into his fists and pins them above his head against the wall. Right where they belong. It’s a new feeling, the one where he is in control, calling the shots, doing what he wants to a man that so desperately wants him, and the positively wrecked look Ricky gives him could make him come as well.

He leans forward, but instead of finding his lips, Ryan’s mouth molds to Ricky’s neck, and the moan that meets his ears is like a symphony. He doesn’t have to wish for it again because those lovely sounds continue to come even as Ricky comes, shaking and twitching underneath the weight of his body against him.

“Jesus…” Ricky says, ragged, letting his eyes shut. Ryan loves the smile he sees when he kisses his cheek and then his lips. “Did you…”

Ryan shakes his head. “Almost.”

Ricky frowns, kisses him back though absentmindedly. “Then let me help you with that.”

So this is the apology he gives for being a tease. Ryan cannot deny he loves it, but he shakes his head again, most pleased with the disappointed pout he receives as he says, “After the show.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos appreciated.


End file.
